I’m a musician. I’ve performed in one way or another my entire life. Between my friend’s CD players and my dad’s NPR, I’ve been exposed to every type of music imaginable. There is never a point in my day when I don’t have a song stuck in my head. I make music, I listen to music, I live music. And the significance of music in my life has rarely been more obvious to me than it was the week of February 17.
I had picked up a late night shift in the computer lab where I work. When I sat down at my station, I found an email from my church; the subject line read “Urgent Church Family Concern.” I opened the email and read it. Then I read it again. And again. It was probably the third or fourth time through before I processed what I was reading. The family of one of our pastors had been involved in a car accident on the way home from the Ash Wednesday service. The youngest daughter hadn’t survived.
Here is a troubling scene. Jesus, the Son of God, willing and able to bear my sins and walk this road to death and resurrection – stumbles. We hold our breath as we see it, for we need the strong man to succeed for us. We need him to carry this out for us. We certainly do not have it within ourselves to do so. We, like voters in the voting booth or devoted fans at the big, big game, have placed our hopes on the man-god. Jesus, you must not falter. We are depending on you.
But he stumbles, our tradition says. Three times, in fact, He stumbles: perhaps once as Creator, once as Redeemer, and once as the Holy Sustainer? This does not bode well. It does not bode well because now one of us, one of us sideliners – a Simon of Cyrene, has been recruited to step into the work of bearing our sins and our sorrows. Jesus our Savior, Redeemer of the world – is being helped by the likes of us. And I don’t trust us. This should not be part of the story. The church should have just kept quiet about all this. It would be much safer if we just left this for Jesus to handle. A nice chair on the sidelines of the parade route is a fine place for us to watch. We shouldn’t get involved in the saving of the world.
But here we are. Jesus stumbled. He is not doing it all. Simon finds the cross on his back – and he in turn is looking out into the watching crowds. The story has it that he ends up a missionary for Jesus, and that this moment is just the beginning of a lifetime of carrying the cross. Story has it that Simon never really put it down.
This is a troubling scene indeed. Are we being asked to get involved? To be co-creators? Co-redeemers? Houses of the Holy Spirit of God? Is this stumbling an invitation, and not a failing? Is the man-god just being a man, and by so doing, inviting us to join in being God?
Troubling.
Here is a troubling scene. Jesus, the Son of God, willing and able to bear my sins and walk this road to death and resurrection – stumbles. We hold our breath as we see it, for we need the strong man to succeed for us. We need him to carry this out for us. We certainly do not have it within ourselves to do so. We, like voters in the voting booth or devoted fans at the big, big game, have placed our hopes on the man-god. Jesus, you must not falter. We are depending on you.
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The following poem was written by rabbinical student Seth F. Oppenheimer:
I’m a musician. I’ve performed in one way or another my entire life. Between my friend’s CD players and my dad’s NPR, I’ve been exposed to every type of music imaginable. There is never a point in my day when I don’t have a song stuck in my head. I make music, I listen to music, I live music. And the significance of music in my life has rarely been more obvious to me than it was the week of February 17.
Here is a troubling scene. Jesus, the Son of God, willing and able to bear my sins and walk this road to death and resurrection – stumbles. We hold our breath as we see it, for we need the strong man to succeed for us. We need him to carry this out for us. We certainly do not have it within ourselves to do so. We, like voters in the voting booth or devoted fans at the big, big game, have placed our hopes on the man-god. Jesus, you must not falter. We are depending on you.
